Felt
by TheDarknessDidNotComprehendIt
Summary: Felt. (Merlin drabbles.) We look at the most moving moments. Mergana. Arwen. [lots of other pairings.]
1. Gone

_First one. Will be many to follow._

* * *

 **[Gone.]**

The boat glides across the shimmering water.

The sand swirls at his feet; he does not notice. The water laps on his boots; he does not notice.

If only it is him on that boat, that vessel aflame. But it's not his destiny. A gull flies past, disturbing the trees behind him. He does not notice.

If only it is him on that boat, that beacon on the water—that beacon of death. But the pain is his. It's his to bear.

If only Merlin can be on that boat, if the weight of his grief would not cause it to sink.

The boat glides serenely on, as if it knows a peace that cannot exist, not now. The world continues to be; he does not notice.

 _If only._


	2. Lonely

_More of a poem this time._

* * *

 **[Lonely.]**

Don't tell them;

It's too dangerous.

It's lonely—

It's lonely.

No, Merlin.

Nobody can know.

Even him.

Even her.

Trust, betray;

It could have saved her.

No, Merlin.

Not the witch.

In the end,

When days became dark,

The flames grew;

They both knew.

It was over,

She was gone: forever.

It's lonely—

It's lonely.


	3. Light

_A very Mergana take on her last scene._

* * *

 **[Light.]**

She looked down at her brother, who was almost gone. A sadistic whisper escaped her lips; poisonous flames burned in her heart. She stood over her brother, who was almost gone.

Hatred, overwhelming. It did not fill her; it _was_ her.

Then the voice came, behind her: a voice that held something that confused her, a meaning she could not see.

Every time she was so, so close to winning, he had stopped her.

Emrys, who she hated even more than her brother.

Her hair was matted and tangled, hanging around her, dark and wild.

His eyes were bright, incredibly passionate, but as calm as peace itself. In them, it seemed, the entire world was contained.

Emrys looked at her, his eyes expressing something that confused her, something...invaluable. She did not understand it.

 _I blame myself for what you've become._

She could do nothing else but look back.

 _This has to end._

Her mouth responded—

The cold steel shocked her, the only blade that could.

She looked up, into that which held the world. He held her, gently.

And at that moment the light shone in the darkness.

Suddenly she knew; at that moment, she understood.

She went, slowly, to the ground, focusing only on him, only on Merlin. The light drove out the darkness, and at last she could see.

She was almost gone.

But, for the first time, she knew how it felt, she knew what it meant. The light drove out the darkness; the love drove out the hate.

The blade slipped out but she barely felt it.

He stood over her, searching her eyes as if she mattered. He looked at her; she felt peace.

She was almost gone.

Merlin did not leave. He stayed, until the life had gone from her.

Love. It did not fill her; it _was_ her.

The world faded.

The world faded, but the darkness was no more.


	4. Destiny

A theme not just in the show.

* * *

 **[Destiny.]**

The boat smoldered in the distance, a glowing ember. The flames became smaller—eventually, they would die.  
It was an inevitability; no hope could still survive. The king had fallen into the unyielding grasp of death.

But no, it was not unyielding—it must not be unyielding. Death was defenseless against the force Merlin knew so well. The force that had killed, saved, loved, hated. The unstoppable force that was called destiny; the authority that brought pain under the comforting cover of progress.

The Warlock stood alone, knowing. He stood alone as he always had, sharing only to himself what only he could know.

Loneliness? Yes, but destiny came first.  
Pain? Destiny came first. Pain was worth it.  
Love? Destiny came first.

The cruel power that kept joy for later.

It killed the King.  
It made her something she never was, something she could never be.  
Destiny, which caused so much loss, but it was worth it. Right?

The sand shifted, the boat naught but a faint glow.  
The waves lapped on the shore, relentless, like—

Perhaps it would be better. Perhaps, one day, destiny would be fulfilled. Perhaps, in the end, fate would be kind.  
Perhaps, one day, love would not be a dream.

But how? What would life be without pushing toward something better?

The Warlock stood alone, not knowing, but knowing he could not know.  
He stood in the shifting sand.  
The boat had disappeared. The sky slowly faded.

The waves continued to lap on the shore, as relentless as the agony in his heart.

He stood alone.

If destiny went to something better—if it went toward something other than _itself_ —then it must be a joy he did not know.


End file.
